


just let me hold you (like a hostage)

by moonmotels



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Doctor AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmotels/pseuds/moonmotels
Summary: calzona au if grey's anatomy was written by moonmotels
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 11
Kudos: 78





	just let me hold you (like a hostage)

‘ _you have witchcraft on your lips_.’  
-shakespeare

  
“Jesus, Cordelia, get up.”

Swinging her legs off the uncomfortable bed before even opening her eyes all the way, Cordelia blindly scrambles to straighten her lab coat and stethoscope. “I’m up, I’m up.”

“I paged you four times,” her best friend and admitted favorite nurse, Coco, replies. “Roger’s parents are here for an update.”

“I didn’t sleep last night,” Cordelia begrudgingly takes the chart from Coco and leaves the small on-call room where doctors spend most of their free time sleeping. Shutting the door behind them, her heels clack along the tiled hallway floors as she rushes towards patient rooms. For over eight years now, Cordelia has worked in the pediatric wing of the hospital, surrounded by a team of competent nurses and lab techs. Coco is her closest friend and the best nurse she knows.

\- Also the most annoying.

“So how come you didn’t sleep last night? Hot date with your five fingers?” Coco wriggles her hand at Cordelia, who slaps it away.

She’s been on two dates with Hank, a contractor who works opposite hours of her and is never available enough for her liking. Also, he kind of sucks. At this point in her life, she’s so over being alone that she might just settle for him. That’s Cordelia, always settling.

“No,” Cordelia hisses, “it’s called insomnia, not sure if you’ve ever heard of it.”

“Aw, c’mon, Hank hasn’t sexted you yet?” Coco pouts as if she is actually upset at the idea.

“We’re two adults in our thirties, Co, not horny seventeen year olds. And I’m not even sure I like him enough for - _that_.”

“I’m just saying, you need a dick in your life or I’m going to literally commit you to an asylum. You’re mean when you’re frustrated.”

“I could wrap my bare hands around your _thro_ \- hi there, Mr. & Mrs Alvarez.” Cordelia almost runs straight into the couple, who are clutching what looks like an entire box worth of tissues in their grips. Red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks never fail to make Cordelia’s heart clench. This is why she became a doctor, she thinks, if only for the ability to reverse moments like these. Sparing a glance at their son; hooked up on a machine and looking fragile, Cordelia offers her hand. “It’s good to see you two again.”

Neither of them take her extended greeting. “Why hasn’t his condition changed?” Mrs Alvarez sobs, burying her head into her husband’s shoulder. Stiffly patting her back, Mr. Alvarez directs his malicious glare to Cordelia.

Used to being on the receiving end of anger and stress, Cordelia rolls her shoulders back and opens her mouth to answer when someone interrupts her.

Turning her head at the intrusive extra person in the room, she is rendered speechless. Dressed in a smock dress dotted with tiny white flowers and a starch white lab coat, there stands quite possibly the most beautiful woman Cordelia has ever seen walk through the doors of this hospital. Her hair falls in random ringlets around her sharp facial features, frizzy but still inviting enough to run your hands through. Beautiful blue eyes are sharp and focused, never leaving the Alvarez’s intimidating gaze. And her hands - the soft looking fingers curled around a lab chart; _Cordelia’s_ lab chart, seem strong and capable.

Cordelia is so taken aback that she almost misses the voice that, well, sounds like a goddamn dream.

“Roger has been placed under a medically induced coma that will last for anywhere from thirty six to seventy two hours. It’s completely normal, expected even. It’s only been a day, so we can expect a change in the followin’ few. I promise he’s fine, Mr. and Mrs Alvarez.”

“He got hit in the head with a goddamn baseball, and this is your idea of healing him? Putting him in a fucking coma? I could take this up with your superior, it doesn’t sit right with me. Not at all.”

Taking control of the reins again, Cordelia angles herself so that Misty isn’t in her way. “The induced coma will allow time for his brain to heal completely, especially the swelling that is what hurt him in the first place. You’re more than welcome to call my superior, he’ll tell you the same thing.”

Looking suspiciously between this new doctor and Cordelia, they seem to accept this explanation and grumble something about needing a coffee before stalking from the room.

The stranger lifts her hand for Cordelia to take, but Cordelia just glances disdainfully at it while icily asking, “Who are you?”

Coco, unbelievably, is the one to reply, “This is Misty Day, the new pediatric neurologist. I told you about her.”

Cordelia can’t help her snark, snapping back, “What happened to Doctor Daniels? You didn’t tell me about her.”

“Doctor Daniels took a ‘leave of absence,’” she air quotes, “somethin’ about creeping some extra pills from the pharmacy,” the stranger, Misty, winks as if the secret is safe between all of them. 

“Well Roger and the Alvarez’s have been my case for four days, you can’t just swoop in here and pretend to know everything. Where even did you come from?”

Misty raises her eyebrows in abject shock, still looking calm and collected.

_And cute - really, really cute._

“I’m new here, -” she pauses.

“Cordelia,” she offers. “Cordelia Goode.”

“Well, Cordelia Goode, I’m new here, but I have been doing this for quite a while. Actually, I’ve heard a lot about you. When I finished doctors without borders ‘boutta month ago and heard a position opened up here, I snatched it quicker than a gator when it’s feedin’ time.” Misty smiles, all lips and teeth, and it makes Cordelia’s chest clench just enough to propel her into uncharted territory.

“Oh, well, it’s lovely to have you here. Sorry I got defensive, I’m just very invested in my cases.”

“S’okay, sorry I headbutted myself right in there. It’s nice to finally put a pretty face to the name, Dr. Goode.”

“Cordelia,” she replies, finally shaking Misty’s outstretched hand. Momentarily forgetting her manners, she jerks her thumb towards Coco. “And this is my best friend, Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt. She’s the best nurse on this floor.”

Coco snorts, rolling her hazel eyes under thick, dark lashes. “I’m the best nurse in this whole goddamn hospital.”

Misty laughs and it sounds like a chorus of angels serenading Cordelia into the most peaceful state of mind she’s ever been in.

“Well, I’ll come check on Roger later, but I gotta go do rounds. Nice to meet y’all.”

With an echo of a goodbye, Cordelia watches as Misty’s long legs carry her out of the room and into the bright light, like an angel amongst sun colored clouds.

A painful pinch on her elbow has Cordelia yelping and jumping back in surprise. “What the fuck was that for?”

Coco eyes her smugly, a crooked grin tugging at the edges of her lips. “She’s hot.”

“Okay?”

“She’s hot _and_ available.”

“I don’t even - what are you implying?” Cordelia sighs in exasperation, already feeling a headache forming. It’s making her cranky and undeniably annoyed.

“There was no rock on her ring finger, which I saw you admiring.”

“Jesus, Coco, I was not admiring her fingers. I was simply trying to figure out who she was.”

“I’m just saying,” Coco singsongs, “she’s here to relieve some stress. You seem to have a lot of it.” Wiggling her fingers at Cordelia for the second time, she begins checking vitals and fixing her chart accordingly.

“I hate you,” Cordelia tells her, sitting on the edge of the bed. Taking Roger’s tiny, frail hand in hers, she strokes her thumb lovingly over the soft skin. “How is he responding to stimuli?”

“No change in any brain activity, but I think he’s in there fighting.”

“I hope so.” Leaning over, Cordelia brushes Roger’s brown hair away from his eyes and whispers, “Hey, there, little guy. I’m your doctor. We’re taking good care of you, and your parents can’t wait to talk to you, alright? Hang in there.”

Straightening up, Cordelia takes the lab chart from Coco and follows behind to the rest of the patient rooms.

By three in the afternoon, Cordelia’s stomach is grumbling so loudly it’s almost embarrassing. Coco sits at her nurse’s station, popping her gum and flipping through a magazine. Exhausted, Cordelia drops the last completed chart into the bin and flops her head down on the counter.

“I’m so tired.”

“Hungry, too. Heard your stomach all the way down the hall.”

Cordelia spits out a sarcastic, “Lovely.”

“Let’s go eat, c’mon, my treat.”

“Well, since you refuse to ever pay, I suppose I can take you up on that.”

Down in the cafeteria, Cordelia scrutinizes the abysmal choices, finally deciding on a bland piece of chicken and some vegetables that have probably seen better days. As she plops her tray down on the sticky table, she groans inwardly when Coco places a piece of cake in front of her and produces a singular candle from her purse.

“Do not do what I think you’re about to do.”

“I promise I won’t sing,” Coco pouts, “but let me have this one thing. It’s your birthday, we can’t just ignore it.”

“My only wish is that we do ignore it.”

“I _will_ stand up and belt out happy birthday at the top of my lungs.”

“Jesus, okay, I will take the cake. Just - sit in your seat and don’t make a scene.”

Coco bites into her pasta and grins goodnaturedly. “Done.”

They eat in relatively peaceful harmony, Coco poking fun of Cordelia every chance she gets. Just as they’re finishing up, Coco grins and frantically waves someone over. Cordelia turns her head just as Misty’s gaze lands on her, and it makes her throat well up with something akin to embarrassment.

Frantically swiveling back to Coco, Cordelia shakes her head rapidly. “Please, Coco, don’t.”

“What? She can’t eat alone on her first day.”

“She’s - she’s annoying,” Cordelia hisses.

_Annoying - no. Quite possibly the most beautiful woman alive? Yes. Confusing me and my sexuality? Also yes._

“You’re fucking annoying,” Coco shoots back, “Hi Misty.”

“Hey y’all,” Misty eyes them warily before taking the seat Coco holds out for her. “Sorry, don’t wanna interrupt ya lil’ date here.”

“Cordelia would be so lucky to have me,” Coco tosses her hair back as if burdened by her wit and charm. “Tell us how your first day is going.”

“Your hospital’s fuckin’ huge,” Misty’s eyes widen. “I got lost going from oncology to radiology at least three times.”

“Take the east stairs to the third level and the elevator up to fifth,” Cordelia says nonchalantly, sipping her sparkling water. Something about being in Misty’s presence is making her throat dry. If she weren’t so secure with herself and her sexuality, she might believe it’s the inkling of a crush. But that’s ridiculous - she likes men.

“You’ll get used to it in no time,” Coco chatters on, stopping to take Misty’s hand and admire her rings, all set with beautiful stones and silver bands. “You’re so pretty.”

“Oh,” Misty says, just as she chokes down a piece of fruit. “Thank you, that’s very kind.” Inconspicuously, she spares a look at Cordelia when she makes a small sound of agreement. Cordelia makes no move to agree with words, because doing so would mean confirming out loud that she thinks Misty is pretty, which is ridiculous, since she’s so much more than that.

She’s otherworldly, an angel amongst peasants, a siren that could lure Cordelia to the deepest, darkest depths of the sea.

So yeah, ridiculous.

Casting her gaze down at the table, Misty’s eyes land on the uneaten slice of cake. “What’s that for? It’s not your birthday or anything, right?” She laughs nervously, seemingly just as shaken in Cordelia’s presence.

“It’s funny that you say that,” Coco begins.

“No, Coco.”

“Everyone’s favorite pediatric doctor here has a birthday, but refuses to admit it to herself or anyone else for that matter.”

Misty gasps theatrically, clapping her hands in excitement. “Cordelia, that’s so exciting,” she gleams. “We - I mean you, have to celebrate!”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her,” Coco rolls her eyes.

“I love birthdays,” Misty drops her head in her palms, smiling so softly it makes Cordelia’s chest hurt. “You gotta do something fun.”

“I’d like to just go home and sleep for fifteen hours.”

“I say we go out and have a couple drinks. You’ve been saying you’re _so_ stressed lately,” Coco pokes Cordelia with her fork.

Cordelia swats her away. “First of all, no. Second, who is ‘we’ here?”

“You, me, Misty. It’s perfect.”

Misty and Cordelia both open their mouths to protest at the same time, unknowingly for the same reason. Alcohol, a dark room, and little personal space - sounds like a nightmare to both of them. Misty is not afraid of admitting that she finds Cordelia to be incredibly beautiful, but it will not be easy going about that. Cordelia is like an armed fortress; there are walls to scale, moats to cross, guards to take down. But if Misty knows anything - it’s that she likes a challenge.

The only problem is that she is not sure Cordelia is ready to play.

“I don’t want to intrude -” Misty starts.

“I want to go home, Co,” Cordelia honest to God whines.

“What else are you two doing later? Sleeping? Can we pretend we’re in our thirties and not fulfilling our roles as the fucking Golden Girls? Jesus, at least act like we’re still young and hot.”

Cordelia softens up, just a little. Just enough for her to find herself exasperatedly agreeing. “One drink. And then I’m going home to bed.”

They both look at Misty, who seems to be a deer caught in headlights. “Sure,” she swallows the lump in her throat. “One drink won’t hurt.”

“Great,” Coco swipes her bottom lip mischievously, and Cordelia can see the gears working behind her eyes. A night out with Coco is never just a quiet night, something unbelievable always happens.

Sighing, Cordelia forces herself to squash down incessant thoughts of feeling blonde hair tickling her throat and pretty pink lips crushing against hers. 

Six hours later, Cordelia finds herself standing in Coco’s apartment, towering in four inch heels she no longer believed could even fit until pulled from the depths of her closet and slipped on.

Coco is babbling on about a first year med student that is only, like, eight years younger than them, when the doorbell rings.

Shuffling behind Coco as they move towards the door, Cordelia pleads, “Please don’t make this weird.”

“Why, because you think she’s hot?”

The color drains from Cordelia’s face, a crimson blush replacing the normal pallor. “Please,” she repeats.

“Relax, I’ll be chill. Focus on yourself, you horny bitch.”

Just as Cordelia goes to release a guttural screech, Coco swings the door open. “Hi Misty.”

Stood there like an absolute dream, is Misty. She’s changed outfits into a longer dress that dusts the floor at her ankles, and Cordelia can’t help but admire the way the pale blue color sets off the light in her twinkling eyes. It’s a mix of someone stuck in the seventies and someone who doesn’t care about societal trends, but nonetheless, Misty makes her outfit look insanely good looking. In her hands is a bouquet of lavender and calla lilies, all bundled together with a pretty pink ribbon.

She offers the flowers to Cordelia who takes them and automatically inhales their scent. Stunned, she takes a step back and allows Misty to walk into the foyer. 

“These are really beautiful, Misty, thank you.” Cordelia dodges the jab of Coco’s finger on her back, turning to find a suitable vase for them.

“Ah, well, it’s really nothin’, just some shit I had in my garden. I know we just met, but my mama always said pretty girls deserve flowers on their birthday.”

Cordelia can’t help the flutter of butterflies deep in her chest cavity from that place locked behind her heart. Blushing, she ducks her head. “Well thank you, again. Sorry to drag you out with us.”

Misty shrugs. “Wasn’t doin’ much else, unless you count going to bed at nine with my cat as somethin’.”

It’s endearing, her self-conscious laugh. 

Cordelia clears her throat, finally setting her flowers on Coco’s counter scattered with takeout menus and trashy magazines. “Well either way, I’m glad you’re here. And I’m sorry about earlier. It really was unfair of me to treat you like that right off the bat.”

Misty flits her hand in the air. “S’all in the past, darlin’.”

So it is.

Coco gathers them into a huddle for a shot they’re not allowed to opt out of, clapping her hands in excitement when they all take it down. Cordelia feels the burn of tequila make a pleasant warmth in the pit of her stomach - the warmth that had intensified the second Misty walked in the door looking like that. Pouring herself another, Cordelia doesn’t wait for them and tosses it down her throat. She’s always been able to hold her liquor, but tonight she feels reckless; bold, wants to take a wrecking ball to her usual stoic exterior.

When she sets the glass down, she’s met by two incredulous stares. Swiping her top lip off, she grins, “What? It’s my birthday.”

“I love this side of you.” Coco shakes her head in awe, handing Misty another drink.

In the car ride to the bar, as Coco flirts with the obviously interested driver, Cordelia does not miss the way Misty rests her palm delicately atop her thigh, just above the knee. Lacing their fingers together, Cordelia grows bold and lifts her hand, purposefully placing it higher up her leg. Feigning innocence when she feels Misty glance over at her, Cordelia watches as cars whizz by; a blur with the alcohol thrumming in her system.

As promised, the bar is quiet and tucked away between brightly colored houses with only a few people milling around outside. Regretfully dropping Misty’s hand to reach into her bag for her wallet, Coco waves her off. “I’ve got your cover, I did force you out.”

“I should celebrate my birthday more often if you’ll treat me like this.”

“Don’t push your luck, birthday girl. I’m only in a charitable mood for tonight.”

At the bar, Misty holds out the chair for Cordelia, who sits and has to steady herself with a palm on the shiny counter. She’s feeling a bit unstable; a little unhinged, but still clear minded enough to drawl out a low thank you.

She’s also still in the right state of mind to feel the returning press of Misty’s palm on her leg again, this time bold and unapologetic. The touch feels all too intimate, like they are lovers who have known each other for lifetimes and not twelve hours. Cordelia thinks she would love to test the limits of this, but again, she’s a straight woman with a minor crush on Misty. Nothing more, nothing less.

Coco forces them all to take another celebratory shot, climbing off the stool with an apologetic kiss on each of their cheeks when she spots her first year med student across the bar. Finally alone in Misty’s presence, Cordelia feels a tingle crawl up her spine and sizzle pleasantly at the nape of her neck. Turning to face her, she gives Misty a crooked grin and whispers, “Hi.”

“Hi, cutie.”

At the pet name, Cordelia ducks her head to hide the blush that blossoms over her cheeks. She’s startled to feel Misty grasp her chin with gentle fingers, angling it back up for eye contact. “You keep doin’ that.”

“Doing what?”

Misty shrugs one shoulder, dropping her hand. “Hiding your smile when someone compliments you or notices how pretty you are.”

Cordelia’s mouth drops open in surprise, quickly snapping it shut when Misty’s intense gaze doesn’t waver. “I guess I’m - I’m not used to it.”

“Not used to people thinking you’re beautiful?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“I find that extremely hard to believe,” Misty shakes her head as if ridding herself of some intrusive thought. Looking at the half empty glass of wine, she scrutinizes Cordelia’s drink of choice with crinkled eyes. “It’s your birthday, don’t you wanna feel a little wild? What’s wine gonna do, put you to sleep?”

Cordelia fake scoffs at her, moving to take a large gulp that empties the glass. “I will have you know, wine makes me very -”

Misty interjects, “Horny?”

Momentarily caught off guard, Cordelia bursts into unrestricted laughter, making people within a ten foot radius glance over at the two blondes bent over in sheer amusement. Composing herself as best she can atop the wobbly chair, Cordelia brushes tears away from the corner of her eyes. “Jesus, the words that come out of your mouth.”

Misty winks. “I have a way with ‘em.” Motioning for the bartender, she whispers with him for a moment before relaxing back in her seat. Another wine glass is set down, along with a whiskey on ice for Misty. Reaching for her wallet, Cordelia is stopped by that damn hand again. Looking down at Misty’s fingers on her wrist, she has to clear her throat and try exclusively not to think where else that hand could be placed.

_Pressed between legs, gently squeezing my throat, slipping two fingers inside of me._

Fuck, Cordelia thinks, I’m _drunk_.

But then again, it’s her birthday.

“How much do I owe you?” she finally asks. 

“It’s your birthday, you don’t owe me a damn thing.”

Cordelia tries to protest, really, but Misty’s already knocking back her drink and looking like her next mistake. She shuts up and sips her wine, the alcohol making everything about this situation so much better. Allowing her mind to wander a moment, Cordelia thinks about the minor crushes on women she’s had before. Of course in college there’d been short flings, nothing more than drunken makeouts at parties, but something tells Cordelia she’d like to go further than that with Misty. She’d like to hold her hand on walks and make her breakfast in the mornings and wake up with the sun shining upon golden locks and bright blue eyes.

It’s not the most insane idea she’s ever had, but again, it’s probably just the alcohol.

Her train of thought is interrupted again by Misty speaking in that low and tempting accent of hers. “I wanna know more about you.”

“About me? Like what?”

“I dunno,” Misty’s fingers curl around the condensation of her glass, and the image of her wet fingers sparks something unrestrained and feral inside Cordelia. It’s hard to focus as she continues, “Just start tellin’ me anything.”

“Oh, well, my mother wanted me to be a teacher growing up, but I was spiteful and decided to one up her. After med school I just messed around until -”

Misty interrupts her again. “No, I don’t wanna hear your life story. I wanna know about you. I already know you’re an amazing doctor, tell me somethin’ nobody else knows.”

The way Misty leans in, resting her elbow on the counter with this moody look in her eyes makes Cordelia want to tell her every intimate detail of her life until dawn comes and the birds start their morning song.

“I hate my job,” she blurts.

This takes Misty aback. “But you - you’re so good at it.”

“I am, I guess, but it’s so draining, you know? I love taking care of people, and healing them, but it’s so much. I’d like to settle down, maybe teach a few small medical classes at a university or something.”

“Settle down,” Misty pauses to thank the bartender for placing down two more drinks. “with a husband n’ kids?” She sips inconspicuously, focused on tearing apart the damp napkin with her nail.

Hot heat flushes to Cordelia’s cheeks, making her flustered and tongue-tied. “I don’t even know at this point. I have no one to settle with.”

“Ah, well, the right person always comes along, don’t they? A woman like you shouldn’t have any trouble with that.”

Taking the last sip of wine, Cordelia shuts her eyes and feels her head spin like she’s on a carousel. Maybe she’s had one drink too many, and maybe she should think about getting herself home, but Misty is so pretty and she’s so drunk there’s no reason to leave so soon. Drunk Cordelia usually doesn’t take too many risks or provide anything for sober Cordelia to hate in the mornings, but tonight is different. It might be in the air, or it might be the way Misty’s tongue darts out to swipe her bottom lip in a gesture that really should be considered cruel, but something will happen; a dam will break and Cordelia will allow herself to deal with consequences in the morning.

“I want to know about you. Please,” Cordelia adds quickly. She neglects to mention that she’d love for Misty to put her hands all over her body, but different stories for different days.

“Well, I like old music, plants, women, and bein’ outside barefoot. That’s really it.” The shawl draped over Misty’s shoulders starts slipping, revealing a tantalizing expanse of smooth skin with every inch it falls. Ripping her eyes off the sight, Cordelia ignores _women_ and questions, “Old music?”

“Shit from the seventies. Fleetwood Mac?”

Cordelia cringes inwardly, hoping it’s not written all over her face. “I’ve, uh, heard of them.”

“You have _so_ much to learn from me, Miss Cordelia.”

Clinking their glasses together, Cordelia grins. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Leaning back casually in her chair, Cordelia closes her eyes and smiles; feels tiny waves of delight crash into her as the alcohol begins making reckless decisions for her. Deciding to deal with ramifications when the sun comes up, she reaches out to tuck a lock of Misty’s wild hair behind her ears. It’s soft, soft enough to tangle your fingers in while you kiss her without ever wanting to come up for air.

“You have the most beautiful eyes.”

Misty crosses her legs at the knees, knocking into Cordelia briefly. The contact sends a rush of heat between to the pit of her stomach, white hot and bold. 

“Don’t do that,” Misty says.

“Do what?”

“Flirt with me. You’re dangerous, Cordelia.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

Misty’s eyebrows raise in surprise, painting a look of lust across her sharp features. This is wild, uncharted territory, but it has to be okay, right? Because Misty is looking at her like that and it’s her birthday and there’s the most delicious sensation sizzling over every inch of her skin.

“You’re dangerous,” Misty repeats, taking a sip of water that will do little to cool down the tension in the room.

“How so?” What Cordelia loves is this - pressing buttons she has no business pressing, stepping her toe over the line of invisible boundaries, asking for things she should not be asking for.

“Don’t play innocent,” Misty scoffs, “women like you could break hearts in the blink of an eye n’ continue on like nothin’ happened.”

Cordelia hums.

“Exactly how many hearts have you broken, Dr. Goode?”

The room that had been fading into oblivion around them suddenly disappears all at once, like put on mute. Misty is the only person left, her chest rising and falling in a tango of harmony with Cordelia’s breaths. “Plenty. I’m not in the business of breaking any more, though.” She adds this last part out of sheer stupidity, because there is no way she lives in a realm in which Misty would ever dedicate her life to Cordelia. 

“S’good to know.”

Abruptly, Cordelia stands on two wobbly legs. “I have to pee,” she says lamely.

Unsurprisingly, Misty moves to follow. Cordelia takes the lead, holding her hand out behind her for Misty to take. They pass through the semi-crowded room, dodging tables and groups of laughing people all having the time of their lives. Waving as the pass by Coco practically hanging off some guy’s lap, they make it into the one-stall bathroom.

“I’ll wait out here, so you can, you know.”

“You can just come in,” Cordelia tilts her head to the side, knowing she cannot take back what she knows is about to happen.

Misty wordlessly follows, checking behind them for any sign she shouldn’t do this. The empty hallway provides no such luck, so Misty builds up her confidence and shuts the door behind them. When she turns, Cordelia is not using the bathroom, but instead is leaning against the dirty sink and looking at Misty with something untamed in her eyes.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi,” Cordelia repeats, then, “Come here.”

Her feet seem to glide across the sticky bathroom floor, making no sound as she stands inches away from Cordelia. When Misty’s chest rises, it meets Cordelia’s, brushing against it in a way that has no right being so arousing. 

Cordelia smiles gently, taking Misty’s cheek in her palm. When Misty melts into the touch, Cordelia takes the cue to brush her mouth across the opposite cheek. “I thought you said I was dangerous.”

Misty really does try to hide her moan when Cordelia nips at her ear lobe. “You are.”

“And yet, you’re here. In the lion's den with me.”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Just as Cordelia ghosts her lips so very gently across hers, Misty breathes out a quiet _fuck_ , and then a cheeky, “don’t break my heart.”

“I said I wasn’t in the business of it.”

And then - the pressure that has been building all night finally breaks, giving way to the most thoughtless and headey thing Cordelia’s done in her thirty something odd years. Misty is a good kisser, her lips are pliant and gentle, warm as they crush into Cordelia’s. The connection drives Cordelia insane, her body screaming for more,more, _more_. Misty retracts just the slightest bit to slip her hands around Cordelia’s waist and hike her hips up so she’s perched on the sink. 

Taken off guard by how strong Misty is, Cordelia steadies herself and takes a moment to really admire her view. Misty’s hair is frizzier now with the heat circulating the small space and her lips are - Jesus, they’re wet. She can see clear evidence of Misty’s arousal poking through the thin fabric of her dress, sending a heavier rush of pleasure coursing through her veins. Snatching a handful of fabric, Cordelia pulls Misty in so she’s fit snug between her legs, capable hands landing on Cordelia’s waist.

Dodging Misty’s kiss, Cordelia forgoes all inhibition and latches her mouth onto the skin right under her ear. The gasp that follows rings like a chorus of angels, prompting Cordelia to continue her journey in marking Misty’s skin. It’s a thin line she’s just crossed, because Misty is not hers to mark; but if the death grip Misty has on her waist is any indication, there’s really no turning back. Coaxing small bruises with lips and teeth, Cordelia counts the small gasps and whimpers until it feels like a fever dream she’ll never want to be released from. 

A broken, “Cor- _delia_ ,” fills her ears, leaving her teetering on the edge and willing to give Misty anything she could ever request. Connecting their lips once more, Cordelia lets the intoxicating feeling take over until she feels nothing but Misty and her body pressed so close it feels divine. Just as Misty slips her tongue between compliant lips, one of her hands begins a smooth journey up the curve of Cordelia’s waist, stopping just below the swell of her breast. Settled snug under the fabric of her shirt, Misty’s thumb makes small sweeps over the underwire of her bra, teasing gently but never fully committing.

A moan gets caught in the back of Cordelia’s throat, a noise that throws Misty into overdrive. “Are you going to touch me like you mean it?”

Misty stares indulgently at Cordelia, not fully processing the request. It’s unlike her to have such a reaction so soon after meeting someone, but she thinks if Cordelia is actually going to break her heart, she’ll enjoy every goddamn second of it. Leaning forward to pepper hot kisses up and down her throat, Misty swipes her thumb over a stiff nipple until Cordelia is practically jello in her hold.

“Fuck,” Cordelia breathes, arching into Misty’s touch. She is so overwhelmed it’s getting hard to think, and what she needs right now is a rational train of thought. Misty is an enigma, could be photographed to hang in museums around the world; should be studied as a work of art in classes hundreds of years from now. It’s very hard to fathom that she is here, that her fingers are leaving welcomed indents on Cordelia’s skin, and her lips are kissing places long untouched. 

“Happy fuckin’ birthday,” Misty drawls in her stupid hot accent.

“Are you gonna fuck me or just stand there?

And, well - Misty is not going to let that opportunity slip from her grasp, she may never get it again. 

“Y’sure?”

The alcohol answers for Cordelia, an all too enthusiastic yes.

Misty kisses her again, like lovers seeing each other after years spent apart. It’s different this time, just teeth biting lips and tongues sliding slowly against the other. Tugging Cordelia off the sink and into a standing position, Misty holds her there for a moment while trying to memorize her intoxicating scent up close. Slipping one hand under the shirt that’s wrinkled from previous teasing, Misty doesn’t waste time in fully tugging it from high waisted trousers.

“You always wear such fancy fuckin’ clothes?” Misty exasperatedly pulls away from Cordelia’s mouth to focus on the task of unbuttoning her pants.

“It’s all part of the charm.”

“Guess so,” Misty says cockily. Finally getting her pants tugged loose, she slips a hand down them and rests her hand between two warm thighs.

Sighing in content, Cordelia drops her head on Misty’s shoulder in defeat. She no longer has any control over her limbs or the noises she is making, not when Misty strokes her there with the pads of two fingers. 

“You feel so wet,” Misty comments airily, applying more pressure through her panties. “Are you?”

Cordelia bites back a cry, her legs shaking with unbridled pleasure. Misty is giving her what she wants, but it’s not enough, it might never be. She wants Misty here; wants her in every room, house, and building in this entire country. The thought alone of going home after this by herself has Cordelia silently screaming. The pressure is too much, the room feels like it’s closing in, and it’s making everything hazy and incongruent.

Just as Misty drops to her knees, gliding her tongue softly over wet fabric, Cordelia wrenches from her touch.

Startled, Misty reaches up for her and gets batted away.

“What -”

“No, I can’t, I can’t do this.” Cordelia practically pushes Misty backwards and away. She needs space. Everything is moving in slow motion and at a fast pace all at once. She wishes it would stop, just for a minute, just so she can gather her thoughts.

“What the fuck?”

“I don’t - I’m not, I can’t be here right now.”

“Jesus, Cordelia, you fucking _asked_ for this.” 

“I know I did.”

“You can’t just _do that_ to someone.”

“I know,” Cordelia is frantically trying to stuff her shirt back in her unbuttoned pants, clumsily and uncoordinated.

“Stop saying that.” Misty slides her palms down her face, trying desperately to keep her anger at bay. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Putting another foot of distance between them, Cordelia combs a shaky hand through her mussed hair. “I’m sorry, okay, I just can’t do this. I’m not, like, gay.” She winces as the words leave her mouth, knowing full well that’s just a sugarcoated way of saying she’s never felt the way she does now about any other woman.

“So I was just an experiment?”

“No, Mist,” Cordelia reaches for her, but this time she is the one who gets swatted away. “I’m just overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed,” Misty repeats the word with venom in her tone. “Gotcha.”

“I’m sorry,” Cordelia tries again, but her words are left hanging in the space between them as Misty adjusts her shawl and leaves the bathroom with a loud door slam.

“Fuck,” Cordelia bangs the heel of her palm against her forehead. In true Cordelia fashion, she’s fucked up the one good thing that could have really made a necessary difference in her life.

Giving it another few minutes, Cordelia finally gathers the strength to leave the bathroom stall and find Coco. When she spots her sitting in some new guy’s lap, she hurriedly says, “We need to leave, now,” her tone clipped and pleading. Coco, bless her heart, jumps up and bids her nameless, faceless man goodbye.

Taking Cordelia’s hand, she leads them from the bar and mercifully doesn’t ask questions until they’re alone in the comfort and security of her home bathroom, where Coco throws her in the shower and forces information out of her.

Drunkenly crying in Coco’s bathtub feels oddly reminiscent of their dumb college days, when one of them would be sobbing over a boy or a bad grade while the other soothes them with gentle back rubs and glasses of wine. Cordelia wishes she’d grown out of that stage, but once again she’s here like stuck in a cycle of cruel games.

Bright sunlight streams in from Coco’s useless curtains, making Cordelia’s head pound before she even opens her eyes.

“My God,” she groans, adjusting so the pillow rests firmly over her eyes. The bed dips and she freezes for a moment before remembering where she is.

“I have coffee, Advil, and a mimosa for the hair of the dog. Your pick.”

“Give me the first two, please.” Sitting up and wincing, Cordelia holds her hand out for Coco to drop the two pills in. Swallowing them dry, she takes to proffered coffee with a meek thank you.

“We have work in forty minutes, you gonna live?”

“I suppose I have no other choice. I’d rather die, though.”

Coco rolls her eyes. “You’re literally going to be fine, you’ll see her, give a civil hello, and move on with your day.”

“No, Co, you don’t get it. I fucked up. So badly.”

“So what? You both got drunk and got a little frisky, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that I think I like her.”

“As in you - _oh_.” Realization dawns across Coco’s face. “Like actually?”

“Yes, actually, but that doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Coco pats her arm goodnaturedly. “Oh honey, what are we gonna do with you?”

The first thing Cordelia sees as she steps through the hospital doors is a flash of blonde hair. Stopping abruptly, Coco bumps into her from behind and nearly spills her iced coffee all over Cordelia’s back.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” _It’s not even her, get a grip._

Coco tugs her elbow and guides her through the lobby, shielding her from any interactions or glimpses of pretty blondes in lab coats. Dropping her stuff at the nurse’s station, she turns and faces Cordelia, hands on her hips in an authoritative position. “Are you going to be okay? I can’t shadow you all day.”

Nodding, Cordelia tries and fails at convincing them both she’ll be fine. Taking her chart from the bin, she walks away; all the while hoping Misty has suddenly dropped off the face of the earth. Methodically going about her day, she has very little time to dwell on the memory of pink lips pressed against her throat and fingers trailing delicately across her warm skin.

And certainly not the constant reminder of how it felt to have Misty’s hand between her legs.

By lunch, Cordelia is almost feeling like a normal human being again. The pounding pressure in her skull has lessened dramatically, and she’s almost convinced herself that she could handle seeing Misty in person.

As Coco sits across from her in the cafeteria, complaining about the guy last night not answering her text, Cordelia really does feel like things have gone back to normal. That is until Coco stops talking with her fork hovering between her mouth and the plate.

“Cords, do not turn around.”

Stupidly turning her head out of sheer self-sabotage, Cordelia locks eyes with Misty just as she sets a banana down on her tray. When Misty sees her, something soft flashes across her face right before it sets into a look of anger and malice. Dropping the banana back in the fruit basket, she tosses her tray back down and turns on her heel out of the cafeteria.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Cordelia faces Coco once again and drops her head in embarrassment.

“So that wasn’t terrible.”

“She can’t even be in the same room as me,” Cordelia brushes back tears that threaten to spill on her pathetic veggie wrap.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Coco tries, but they both know it won’t be.

At the end of her shift, Cordelia is so burnt out it feels criminal. Her limbs are achy and stiff, her stomach is upset, and her emotional capability to do anything but go home and crack open a bottle of wine is a moot point. Coco hands over Roger’s lab chart without looking, too invested in the game of Scrabble on her phone. Turning on her heel, with her nose in the chart, Cordelia takes two steps into Roger’s hospital room and runs smack into the one person on this planet she’d hoped to avoid.

“Jesus, watch yourself,” the angel speaks.

Cordelia just stares at her.

(She looks beautiful today - enough to render her speechless.)

“Misty, can I talk to you, I -”

“No.”

Cordelia stupidly reaches out with burnt fingertips, only to once again be met by flames. “Please, I want to explain myself.”

Just as Misty opens her mouth to reply, an annoyingly loud beep fills their ears. Whipping her head around, Cordelia wails, “He’s seizing.”

Roger’s tiny body is jerking incessantly atop crisp white sheets; causing Cordelia to screech for Coco. Flying in the room, Coco brushes past Misty while muttering, “I’m here, I’m here.”

Misty holds Roger’s body on his side and Cordelia stabilizes his neck while Coco injects anti-seizure medication into his IV. Holding him steady for a few moments until the shakes lessen, Cordelia breathes out a large sigh. Startled, she finds her vision blurry, fat tears welling up in her eyes.

Coco looks at her incredulously for a moment before snapping back into nurse mode. “He’s gonna be fine, Cords. I’ll take him up to ICU and call his parents, okay? Go home.”

Sniffling, Cordelia watches as Coco wheels Roger from the room and down the hall. Forgetting for a moment that Misty is still behind her, she crumples to the floor and lets the cool tile on her knees ground her to this earth. Every terrible moment of the last twenty four hours has finally come crashing down on her shoulders, making it horrendously hard to breathe.

Surprised to feel strong arms wrap around her shoulders, Cordelia looks up to find Misty; of all fucking people, comforting her and oddly whispering, “It’s okay.”

Maybe it’s the breakdown she’s having or maybe it’s the feeling of being held by Misty, but Cordelia just slumps into the embrace and cries it out; every last feeling she’s bottled up until Misty’s lab coat is soaked and there’s nothing left to cry. People walking by the room stare and will probably ask questions later, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

“Can you stand?”

Cordelia nods. She offers a muttered, “I’m sorry,” and tries to leave the room when Misty tugs at her wrist. 

“Did Coco drive you in today?” When Cordelia shakes her head in confirmation, Misty continues, “I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t -”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Thirty minutes later, Misty is putting her car in park outside of Cordelia’s home. Self-conscious, tired, and objectively more vulnerable than she’s ever been, she goes to slink inside and die of embarrassment. 

With one foot out the door, she hears Misty ask, “Do y’want me to come up with you?”

“For wha- did you want to come up?”

“Said you wanted to talk t’me,” Misty shrugs.

“Then yes, please.”

Inside her apartment, Misty trails her fingers over the plants in her foyer and glances around while Cordelia kicks her shoes off and offers her water. Shaking her head no, Misty allows herself to be guided into the living room where she flops down on a comfortable couch and waits expectantly for Cordelia to initiate this conversation.

“What happened last night, obviously, was my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you for so much, so soon.”

“I gave it to you, willingly. I’m partially to blame,” Misty starts, but Cordelia shakes her head.

“I was brash and didn’t stop to think about what it meant.”

“What it meant?” Misty questions, “You said it yourself, you’re not into women, so it didn’t mean anything.”

Cordelia rolls her eyes up towards the ceiling, hoping some God will mercifully put her out of her misery. “That was - not the right thing to say.”

“Then what are you trying to say? Cordelia, I’m trying to understand but you’re makin’ it real fuckin’ hard.”

“It meant something to me,” she whispers, “it meant something because I like you and that really fucking scares me.” This time, Cordelia is not startled by tears forming in her eyes. Maybe this is her new normal; crying every time she feels one singular emotion.

“But you said -”

“I know what I said.”

Misty eyes her warily, unable to accept the words that are coming from Cordelia’s mouth. The turn of events has her shell shocked, like she’s been given whiplash. She tries to open her mouth to speak, but no string of words come out.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Cordelia fills the empty space between them with words, because, well, she can’t take the silence. “I just wanted you to know it wasn’t your fault and I’m sorry that I asked for something I couldn’t see through.”

“You really fuckin’ screwed me over there.”

“I realize that.”

“You don’t get it, Delia,” Misty hugs her knees to her chest, and it’s reminiscent of a small child or animal cowering in fear. “I meant what I said when I told you that’cha dangerous.” Her voice gets low and slow. “It’s not easy for me to open up to someone the way I wanna open up to you.”

“I’m not asking you for that, I’m not asking for anything. We can go back to being colleagues. Trust me, I can accept that.”

“So it doesn’t matter what I want? You don’t care about that?”

Cordelia finally lifts her head at the harshness of the tone, looking at Misty as if staring with new eyes. She is radiant, a dream that shouldn’t exist outside of Cordelia’s subconscious; but she’s here, shifting atop her couch and speaking from the heart. 

“I never said that.”

“You seem pretty eager to shove it all behind us.”

“That’s not - I thought that’s what _you_ wanted.”

“It’s not."

“Misty,” Cordelia says quietly, “What do you want?”

“I want you,” she finally breaks.

Mindlessly running her finger along the seam of her couch, Cordelia really tries to process this, needs a second to make sure she isn’t dreaming; but Misty is scooting closer and her scent inhabits all senses and it really should be considered _mean_ when she takes Cordelia’s cheeks in her soft palms.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Cordelia confirms.

Misty kisses her then, like it has the ability to revive her spirit from the underworld. Cordelia’s skin underneath her fingertips isn’t porcelain, it’s ivory, but Misty can still see the fatal flaws beneath the surface. Cordelia is a flawed human being; but more than that, she is a lover without someone to love. She is so lovely and so lonely at the same time. It feels inherently right for Misty to have Cordelia in her arms, like they both know of a secret that can’t be shared outside the confines of this embrace. 

When Misty leans back against the cushions and pulls Cordelia down with her, the body bearing down on hers fills her with so much want it’s ridiculous.

“ _Not here_ ,” Cordelia is saying, but that is lost on Misty when a cold hand runs up her ribcage and rests just above her beating heart. Then she is being pulled up and blindly led to Cordelia’s bedroom, which she honestly would admire if Cordelia peeling her clothes off wasn’t such a distraction.

“Are you sure this time?” Misty jokes, but Cordelia groans into her mouth and shoves her down on sheets that billow around her to welcome her home. Her giggles are muffled when Cordelia kisses her again, rough and unapologetic. There is a beauty in this, she thinks, having someone want you so badly it causes impulsive and hasty decisions, like Cordelia’s lips coaxing dark bruises across the expanse of her chest like stars dotting the night sky.

It’s dark outside when Cordelia’s fingers finally slip inside her, and Misty wonders if this is what it’s like to idolize a religious figure. To know of something that is so intensely gratifying and equal parts capable of corrupting you is risky and dangerous, but Misty doesn’t mind at all, not when Cordelia’s thumb starts making circles and she’s whispering filthy praises against the shell of her ear.

When she comes, it’s loud and clear, a chorus of angels reverberating within the four walls of Cordelia’s bedroom. Misty’s life has just been split in half; pre-Cordelia and now post.

“Figured I owed you something,” Cordelia quips, drawing her fingers in soothing circles across Misty’s hip as she tries to even her breathing.

“That was pretty good for someone that ain’t gay,” Misty laughs, squirming away when Cordelia starts tickling at her.

“Shut up,” Cordelia groans, allowing herself to be flopped backwards on the bed. Misty straddles her waist and settles her palms on cream colored skin, smiling down at her. 

“You’re real pretty, Doctor Goode.”

“Likewise, Doctor Day.”

“You’re trembling,” she comments, “Can I finish what I started last night?”

An elongated sigh drops from Cordelia’s lips as she tilts her head back in pleasure, both hands clutching for stability in bunched up sheets. “I wish you would.”

Misty eats her out diligently, working in tune with the way Cordelia’s hips grind and knees shake on either side of her head. When Cordelia comes, she’s quiet, simply reaching down to squeeze Misty’s hand as explosions of color burst behind her eyes. Misty would love to do this all night, wickedly swiping her fingers over Cordelia’s clit just to watch her stir. Just as she goes to push them inside, Cordelia grabs her wrist and shakes her head.

“Please, just hold me.”

Crawling up the bed, Misty tugs her into a spooning position and melts into it.

“I’m sorry,” Cordelia clutches at her. “I messed up last night.”

“Cordelia?”

“Hm?” she feels Misty part silky strands with her nose, brushing it gently just below her ear.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Arching her neck back, Cordelia does as she’s asked; probably will never want to do anything else.

“Gladly.”

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like u know where 2 find me


End file.
